Neutral Grounds
by FantasyFoSho
Summary: War threatens to break the peace Berk has just recently achieved. Find out more by... Reading. Romance, Action, Adventure, and Humour collide in this tale of clashing societies.
1. Chapter 1: Trouble Stirring

Only a month had passed since the fall of the Green Death and the unification of two formerly warring species. Dragon and Viking; united by the bravery of a boy and the trust of his dragon. With the "death" of the Green Death, it seemed as if the land were about to embark on a golden era of peace. But alas, it was not meant to be. Only a month and trouble once again stirred on the Isle of Berk. This_ "trouble",_ swiftly caught the attention of Viking chief Stoick the Vast who, almost immediately, called for a meeting within the village's great hall.

"We are gathered here today to discuss a very important matter." Stoick declared amidst a large assemblage of the Viking peoples. Hiccup, his son, sat with the rest of his former dragon-training classmates at the front of the throng, fidgeting and nervous. He never was one for town meetings. Mostly they just discussed a shortage of arrows oand stale bread. Something about this meeting was different though, Hiccup could feel.

"It has come to my attention," Stoick continued in his gruff, accented voice, "that a number of dragons have been disappearing from the northern section of a forest." He paused, eyeing the crowd. "This leads myself and several elders to believe that dragon-poaching is currently taking place without our knowledge."

A chorus of gasps broke through the silence that followed this shocking announcement. Immediately, hands rose and questions were asked though none could be properly heard. Vikings were not the most orderly, as you'd probably know. Stoick banged the butt of his hammer on the table in front of him, motioning for silence. He was partly successful.

"As you all know, dragon hunting is now banned, and whoever is doing this shall be punished greatly!" He slammed a burly fist onto the same hapless table to prove a point. The sounding _bang!_ of his fist on the stiff rowan echoed across the room. The aforementioned table had now begun to crack. "If you have _any_ idea at all as to who is causing this monstrosity," He shouted, pausing again for effect; his tone borderline serious and angry, "please step forward so that I and the rest of the village may hear it!"

For several minutes, not a single person stirred, until finally, a stout Viking stepped forward with his information and an object which he clutched tightly in his hands. He seemed nervous but began to speak after a minute or so of intensely awkward silence. "I-I… Our hunting party came back with this…" he stammered, holding up the object which was in fact a hatchet, though not by any means a normal one. On this particular axe's shaft was embroidered a crest depicting a dragon's head, mouth open revealing a forked tongue, and long reptilian wings which wove around the wooden handle, slightly eroded from exposure to the elements. The crowd gasped. Hiccup however, raised an eyebrow. While the villagers were doing their gasping, he decided to learn more about the symbol which he had never seen before.

"Why are they so afraid of that axe?" Hiccup wondered loudly, a question which caught the attention of Astrid.

"Not so much afraid," the blonde-haired girl explained, "but more so shocked."

"Why?" Hiccup couldn't help but ask. It was evident that this was something he had not read about.

"_Why?"_ She looked at him, abashed. "Didn't you pay any attention at all during Viking elementary school?"

"Does this have to do with history? Because I-"

"Yes!" She snapped, almost angrily. "Anyways, that crest is the crest of Plackus the Fat and his town, Wyfort."

"Plackus-who?" Hiccup knew he'd regret saying those words but couldn't resist the temptation of saying them anyway.

"Plackus the Fat," Fishlegs intervened, saving him from Astrid's fiery wrath. "Plackus is a really big enemy of Berk. A long time ago, he attacked the town with his armies and there was like a really massive war. Your dad was about our age when that happened. A ton of people died, but in the end, we were able to win."

"Okay…" Hiccup began, cogitating deeply on what this all meant. "But why are they so afraid of this guy? Shouldn't he be dead by now? I mean, he's _got_ to be ancient, right?"

"Not necessarily," Astrid replied, her tone much softer. "Plackus was only a few years older than your dad when he attacked."

"He was able to command an army at that age?" Hiccup asked, his eyes wide, slightly impressed. "But what's up with the nickname?"

"He developed an eating disorder." Snotlout smirked, joining into the conversation with a snicker. Hiccup felt embarrassed at the fact that even Snotlout knew more about the subject than he did. "Apparently, he's trying to get into shape again. Like he'll be able to succeed," He snorted, rolling his eyes. "If he ever shows up here, I'll destroy him. You'll see." He flexed his arm, cupping the small orb of muscle that he had developed like he was trying to show them something.

Hiccup was about to press on for more information until he was interrupted by the booming voice of his father.

"Attention!" Stoick shouted, and immediately the room quieted. "Many of you know the meaning of this symbol." Several members of the crowd nodded in agreement, somewhat grimly.

"If this is true, Plackus the Fat has once more sent his minions into _our_ land. Such an act is worthy of _war_…" The entire room erupted with shouts of accord and an excessive amount of fist-pumping. "We will not tolerate such an action. Dragons are our allies, and any attack on _them_, is a personal attack on _us_!" More cheering ensued. From the ceiling window, a round eye observed the room as the noise had attracted Toothless the Nightfury.

"Wait, what?" Hiccup shouted, snapping out of his reverie. He took a stand, and the room quieted once more.

"Hiccup, what are you doing?" warned Astrid with a hiss. "You shouldn't just speak out like that."

"What is it, son?" Stoick asked, eyeing his son carefully.

Hiccup felt the heat of hundreds of eyes boring into his back. "I just, uh…" He began sheepishly, "I just think you all are being a bit impulsive about this." Some Vikings began to protest but he cut them off. "Just hear me out. How do you know that this was indeed an attack? What if it was just a mere coincidence?"

"Coincidence!" Stoick roared, causing Hiccup to flinch. "Hiccup, do you not see the signs? Do you not care about the dragons?"

"Yes I have and yes I do, but… What if you attacked and they weren't in fact on our land to begin with? Then you just started a pointless war. Maybe you should send a few scouts or something into the forest to check things out. If some of them are in our land, maybe we can capture them and interrogate them or something…"A few voices murmured behind him. Several heads nodded.

"That _would_ be a smart thing to do…" Stoick murmured, deep in thought. Seconds passed before he spoke again. "Alrighty then, it's settled!"

"What's settled?" Hiccup asked, confused.

"You and your friends will go as the scouts! With you as their leader!"

"_What?" _several voices including Hiccup's shouted, obviously confused.

"You have shown your bravery in the past, son." Stoick explained with a toothy grin. "Think of this as training for when _you _are the chief of the tribe! Besides, with the adjustments you've made to your foot, it's almost as good as new!" The crowd nodded in unison, something which they seemed to do fairly often. Stoick put a heavy hand on his son's thin shoulder. "Besides, you six are the only one's out of all of us that know how to fly a dragon! You'll do fine!"

Hiccup slumped. "Oh brother…"

**Author's Note:**

_Yeah, so I felt like adding another chapter in for good measure. Just a quickie to get the plot moving on a bit. It's a little rushed but hopefully it's not too bad._


	2. Chapter 2: Of Wyfort

_Tok-Tok._

It was only dawn of the sixth day of the spring season when Dagonet awoke to the sound of hollow banging against the door of his shack. The dark-haired teenager grimaced, finding this rude awakening quite uncomfortable. However, such an awakening was not unusual in the cruel medieval town of Wyfort. This "town"—or prison, as he liked to call it—was ruled by the brash and ruthless warlord known only as Plackus the Fat. So unloved was he that most people tended to add a certain word—"Bastard", to the end of that title, which in fact was true to the person it was addressed to. Plackus was massive… and he was a bastard… a very cruel, cold-hearted bastard.

Now Plackus, being of such a large size could no longer do most of the wicked and cruel things whipped up in his twisted mind, and as such takes to forcing several poor individuals to do his dirty work for him, just as he had done in the past. He would seize children and teach them his cruel ways and force them to adhere to them. Or atleast try. Dagonet Bandersson was one of those poor individuals. He had only been a meagre eight year old boy when he was snatched from his family to live in a small, walled community with the rest of Plackus' minions-in-training. Since that day, he had been taught to be ruthless and unyielding, learning to fight using weapons of his choice or with just his two hands should the need arise. Some of the kids would chose flashy objects such as flamberges or flails, but Dagonet was never one for theatrics. He chose a simple sword: A short sword. Thirty inches in length, with a weight to his liking; it was perfect. However, little did he know of the uses that seemingly innocent blade would be put to… they were being taught how to slay dragons.

Plackus the Fat had a personal vendetta against the beasts. Though stories may vary from person to person, it is widely accepted that a dragon once ate his mother, which-in his own words he was quite thankful for. However, it was what the dragon did _next_ that revved up the dragon hating machine that is Plackus the Fat (Bastard). After eating Plackus' overly protective mother, it then went after Plackus himself, mistaking him for meat. As a youngin', he did not stand a chance. The dragon, later identified to be a Monstrous Nightmare, had but to spray a small burst of fire and young Plackus was sent keeling to the floor, crying his eyes out. Had he stood still, the dragon may have left him alone. However, it was his cruel nature that spurred him into pelting the beast with stones that became his downfall. He lost his leg that day, though that did little to ease the storm raging within. Many years after the attack, Plackus had seized control of the town using his fierce fighting skills and speechcraft to carve himself an army to fuel his evil intents. With his wily words and irresistible promises he preyed on the greed of men to assemble a fighting force to be reckoned with. To those who resisted—leaders and human's rights advocates, he would challenge personally and they-thinking that a man with one leg would be easy to defeat, underestimated him and like many, would fall. For despite being a man seemingly disabled, Plackus was hardy and strong, his prowess was fuelled by rage and even the strongest of warriors could not stand before him. He was also intelligent, for his military force was not strictly composed of humans. Plackus had trained for himself a horde of Wyverns; fierce dragon-like reptiles that could not breathe fire but are doubly powerful in all other aspects, as well as having a large number of different varieties. It was an army bred for one purpose: to bring about the total extinction of dragonkind.

As part of the "Dragon Slaying Course", trainees were often put into groups of five and taught to slay numerous kinds of dragons, ranging from "class poisonous", to "class fire-breathing", and to the dreadfully feared "class ugly". No one who has seen a "class ugly" dragon lived to tell the tale, giving rise to suspicions by the villagers on whether it actually exists or not. Plackus insists that it does, but people are innately sceptical. Could ugliness kill? Maybe, maybe not.

Dagonet's group was not that different from the rest other than one outstanding fact: not a single one of them wanted to be there. They wanted to be free and did not enjoy the dirty work they were made to do, unlike the majority of their comrades. While that statement in itself may not seem so shocking, one of the members—a redhead named Ophelia (formerly known as Turnip until denouncing that father-given name) was in fact the daughter of Plackus himself. Unlike her father, Ophelia was strikingly beautiful, with flowing hair of crimson and a flawless face to match. However, _like _her father, she was aggressive, tough, and sometimes a bit cruel. Her cousin, Porkchop, was also part of their group. Porkshop, like his name, was very… porky. He was the largest of the group and more resembled Plackus' Viking enemies than their own slender, well-built kin. Also part of the group was a pair of the world's worst trouble makers: Thimble and Thomble. Auburn-haired twins, they spent most of their time devising the most outrageous combinations of words one could think of. To the untrained ear, their pointless babbles may cause one to become slightly demented, and on occasion, even forcing their hapless victims into having existentialist crises'. One unfortunate soul, after having gotten into an argument with the twins, would spend the rest of his life searching for _double rainbows_ and repeatedly asking, _"What does this mean" _amidst fits of sobbing and uncontrolled laughter.

Last of the group was Dagonet himself, a seemingly normal boy with jet black messy hair, moderate build and light brown skin. His coloration was not unusual in his town of many ethnicities, as people were brought in from all over the world as slaves. But they would not be slaves for long, Dagonet vowed to himself. Having seen his father killed before his eyes, Dagonet has lived a life of loneliness, his one wish being that someone would love him. He would never tell anyone or admit to this desire, however, for he believed himself to be far too macho for such emotions. But alas, it is sadly but surely, true.

When he awoke to the sound of pounding at his door, he knew it was time.  
His group had been informed of this event for little over a month. It was time for their first dragon hunt.

Dressing himself quickly, Dagonet creaked open the door to find himself face to face with Argus, the cruel, scar-faced man that was to be their guide and observer.

"Yeh, ready kid?" Argus asked with an evil, gap-toothed grin.

"Yeah, yeah" Dagonet responded lazily. He rolled his eyes. Argus never ceased in his attempt to annoy him and his friends. He would do anything to make a teenager cry in public, for such a feat was unfortunately revered in Plackus' twisted society.

"Don't worry yeh little chump." Argus continued, and for a while, they glared at each other. "Alright," he finally said. "Let's go get the other rascals."

-  
_**Author's Note**_

_Yeah, anyways, this is my first HTTYD fanfic. It will focus on my own group of OCs as well as the original group featured in the movie. Their part is to come up next as I will have them alternating. This chapter is short as it is mostly an introduction but they will get longer as the story progresses. So yeah, just review and tell me what you think I should work on._


	3. Chapter 3: Worthy Advice

_**-Wyfort-**_

After having collected the rest of their company, Argus then led the five teens to an obscure shack some ways away from the keep. As they proceeded towards this aforementioned dwelling, they passed by several rickety houses of the townspeople. Crumbling and dirty, the town was a mess, though from outside its walls, you would never know. Those fortifications, built by Plackus himself, were put up to cement his rule. It had multiple purposes: to keep his prisoners in, and keep his enemies out.

"Alright children," Argus shouted teasingly as they turned the corner. "We are almost there."

"Where exactly are we going?" Ophelia asked in her usual annoyed tone. She was remarkably beautiful today, her pale-yet-lively skin flawless and her auburn eyes bright and determined. She wore an eloquent crimson tunic, matching pants and a feathered red cap. On her hip was a sword, slender, and about forty inches in length, similar to Dagonet's who had graduated from his original thirty inch blade. Her hair was worn down; flowing towards the small of her back and Dagonet could only stare. He knew better than to do so for long, though, as Ophelia was herself much like a dragon; pouncing on anything that seemed to pose a threat. He quickly looked away as she began speaking once more. "I thought the wyvern stables were that way." She started to complain, her thumb pointing down at the road behind them.

"You silly child," Argus said, looking at them as if they were fools needing to be babied. "Before a mission, we must consult the Four Coconuts."

Dagonet nudged Porkchop with his elbow. "Ask him what the Four Coconuts are…" he whispered. Since Porkchop was the largest and most muscular of them all, Dagonet knew that Argus wouldn't pick a fight with him.

"What are the Four Coconuts?" Porkchop indeed inquired.

Argus spun around as if to slap him but stopped midswing, seeing that it was Porkchop, one of the king's favourite nephews, who spoke. "I daresay that you should know already, Porkchop…" the man said in a disappointed English accent. However, he decided to tell them about the mighty Coconuts anyway. Argus cleared his throat, whereas Dagonet merely groaned. In Wyfort, when one clears his throat, that is almost certainly an indicator that a long speech is about to come your way. One of the most deadly weapons is the spoken word, and many a brave soul has died from overly long abrasive speeches or harangues.

"The Four Coconuts," Argus began in an over-loud sermonic tone as they continued to walk, "Are the four mighty entities who have taken the form of coconuts. In that house," Argus pointed to the falling-apart building that came into view ahead of them, "Is where they are stored."

Dagonet raise a brow. "What's so special abou-"

"Let me speak, boy!" Argus snapped. "Anyways," he rambled, "When we enter through that door, it will only be us and the Four Coconuts. There is a large, square-shaped sandbox in the middle of the room. I will pull a lever, and the coconuts will drop. From the marks they make, I shall decipher their advice using this book." He held up a large grey volume titled: **How to Decipher a Coconut by Chucky Norrisson. **On the face of the book was a picture of three coconuts, shockingly, because Argus specifically stated that there were four.

"What kind of advise do they give?" Thimble asked, looking mildly interested.

"Sometimes good, sometimes bad," Argus answered, bluntly. "One unlucky group was given the words: '_When in doubt, die'_."

"Well, did they?" Thomble queried.

"Yes, they did. The coconuts know all, I tells ya."

"That is _so_ fantasmagorical!" Thimble exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. Thomble nodded in agreement. "Well said, brother. Well said."

"Okay, we're here." Argus whispered once they had reached the shack. Peeking through a small orifice, he made sure nobody was inside the room. Pleased, he gently pushed open the fragile excuse for a door and gestured for them to enter, closing the door once more when they did. The room was just as he had described it. There was no furniture, no stray artefacts… Just a single, giant sandbox smack dab in the middle of a room in a house that looked like it was going to turn to sand anyways. Just before the sandbox was mounted a lever; its purpose obviously being to lower the almighty coconuts.

"You ready?" he asked, giddy. The teenagers nodded, though unenthusiastically.

Stepping forward, the scarred man gripped the lever and thrust it down. With several chinks and whirs of mechanism, a sound of flying rope was heard and four normal hairy coconuts tumbled into the sandbox below them, creating tiny craters and sand splatters.

"Okay, lets see what advice we get today…" Argus muttered, stepping forward with his book. He began flipping through it, muttering as he went along, occasionally scribbling a word onto his notepad. "Hm, triple sand splatter… big hole… clockwise hair markings… ah… yes!" He shut the book, creating a small plume of dust.

"Well, what's our advice?" Dagonet asked.

"Hm… This is weird…" Argus said, eyeing his notepad critically.

"Well…?"

"It says right here… that we must… Um…"

"Well!" Dagonet was starting to get annoyed.

Argus gave in. "In doubt, _Eat Da Poo Poo."_

A chorus of "Ew gross!", "Yuck!", and multiple nose pinches emanated from the teenage group.

"Some advice that is!" Ophelia grumbled, unimpressed. "I refuse to follow it!"

Argus shook his head. "Impossible... We can't just shrug off the coconut's advice! Though, admittedly, some of these words are words I've never even seen before. Like they originated in a different language or something..."

" Perhaps the coconuts are having a bad day." Porkchop suggested.

"Can almighty spirits have bad days?" Thimble asked. There was a familiar mischievious glint in his eyes.

"I'm sure they can..." Argus muttered, his eyes staring flat at the ground. "This is the first time they've given me advice like this..."

"I'm sure it's normal, Argus." Thomble said in an affirmative tone. "They probably have hissy fits like this all the time." Somehow, his attempts to comfort the bitter man did not seem very legitimate in Dagonet's point of view.

"Yeah, yeah..." Argus murmured distractedly. We should probably go now." As he turned away Thimble and Thomble snickered, nudging Dagonet. He turned towards them, immediately spotting a linen covered rectangular object in Thomble's spindly hands.

"What is that?" Dagonet asked, preparing himself for a mental barrage of insanity.

"It's the _real_ book." Thomble answered, simply. The pair burst into fits of laughter.

"No way," Dagonet said, a smile creeping across his face.

"Yes way."Thimble replied, nodding.

"You just probably offended four almighty coconut spirits." Dagonet reminded them.

"That's how we do, homeskillet." They snorted in unison.

"That phrase is never going to catch on, you know." commented Dagonet, rolling his eyes. The twins were always concocting weird, abnormal phrases thinking that one day, their words may echo across the centuries and their names be forever remembered as the lords of slang. There was absolutely no way that would occur, Dagonet often thought. Who would ever use the word, "homeskillet" in a coherent sentence? That's right, no one.

"So I guess we're heading for the wyvern stables now?" Porkchop asked, squinting at the distance.

"That is correct." Argus mumbled, still crestfallen at the Coconuts' nonsensical advice. Together, the small hunt-bound group straggled towards the holding area for the Wyvern, their leader very much depressed, just the way Dagonet liked him.

**Author's note:  
**_So there you have, it. The Almight Coconuts. Anyways, here's a little heads up. If you happen to see any internet memes in these chapters, chillax, it was intentional. I may try to slip one in every chapter, and hopefully you'll catch on. This chapter's meme is Eat Da Poo Poo, which first came into fruition when a video was released of a Ugandan minister who was presenting anti-homosexuality propaganda presentations, often claiming that acts of Eating Da Poo Poo often took place behind closed doors. That video has amassed over one million views. Just a little internet knowledge for ya'._


	4. Chapter 4: Why Me?

**-Berk-**

The town of Berk, a bell rang, signalling the conlusion of Stoick's meeting. Immediately, Vikings poured out from the heavy set doors of the Great Hall, their bulky forms constantly getting stuck between each other. Berk was a busy town and as such, work needed to be done. From the Hall, the Viking peoples returned to their respective duties, albeit rather distracted. There was unsettling news that now needed meditating upon. Despite an initially positive and chivalrous response to the delicate situation at hand, the citizens of Berk were now feeling rather discombobulated. As tough, hearty Vikings, they were used to combat. They were accustomed to fighting. They were familiar with war. Fighting was a normal part of their lives. Was.

For little over a month, the people of Berk knew absolute peace. No squabbles, no outside threats, just happy, pleasant peace. And now, that peace was about to fall apart as a dam would during a storm. When that dam breaks, an enemy would fall upon them like water would over stone. Against beasts, the Vikings would welcome the challenge. But they weren't fighting beasts. They weren't fighting bloodthirsty animals prone to becoming easily trapped. They were fighting their own kind. They were fighting humans, and as always, it unnerved them. Humans were smart-well, most of them atleast. Humans were organized-again, most of them. And finally, humans were cunning... Like the latter two: _most_ of them. This, fairly, brought a damper to the usually merry Viking spirits, particularly that of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, who sat sullen-faced at the foot of a large pine. His body oozed nervousness and the surrounding flora reacted by facing away from him, oddly. What he was nervous about was plain to one who attended the town meeting. He had been appointed the leader of a dangerous scouting mission, and he wasn't leading mighty Viking warriors, he was leading his friends, teenage recruits; though they were admittedly mighty in their own rights. A couple months ago, he would have leapt at an oppurtunity to lead such an important mission. But he was a different person back then. He was ambitious, always looking to prove himself. He had no friends, no lover, and everyone in the village seemed to dislike him. He had nothing to lose back then. Now, he had _everything _to lose. He has friends, a lover, a partner, a father who is proud of him, and people who admired him. Now, that could all come crashing down in nature's biggest slap-in-the-face yet. Why did it have to be _him_?

A rustling sound to the right of him snapped Hiccup from his brooding. He stood up, his hand reflexively going for the dagger at his waist.

"Calm down," a familiar voice said. Astrid came out from behind a tree, her battleaxe resting on her shoulders. "It's just me."

"Phew. That's a relief," Hiccup sighed, slumping back down into his previous position.

"So what's been bugging you?" the blonde asked, walking over to sit next to him. "I saw you leave the Hall in quite a hurry. Oh yeah, and this place is terrible. It reeks of self-pity and depression."

"That would be me..." Hiccup muttured in response to her latter question. "It's just this whole scouting thing."

"I thought you would've liked to go." Astrid said, softly.

"I do want to go." Hiccup replied, unconvincingly. "It's just that..."

"Just what?"

"I'm afraid of what might happen." he admitted. "This thing... This mission... It's dangerous."

"Afraid of what might happen?" She straightened her posture. Her facial expression seemed confused, and worry lines curved above her eyes like waves. "Hiccup, we're Vikings. Danger is our middle name. You and I are apart of this town. This family. If you're father wants us to go, then we should go."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that... I want things to be peaceful. I was enjoying the past month."

"Who _wasn't_?" she winked at him.

Hiccup chuckled, his mood brightening significantly. He remembered the time they spent together. Wandering into the forest, jumping into lakes because they felt like it, soaring through the skies on their dragons, feeling the wind weave through their hair. Those were the best moments of his life.

As if on cue, another familiar face popped into the clearing: a dragon's face.

"Hey Toothless!" Hiccup said, greeting the Night Fury. Toothless crooned in response; a low rumbling sound which emanated from his diaphragm. Bending his hind legs, the dragon pounced on Hiccup, licking the teenager's face with his rough semi-circular tongue. Hiccup stood, laughing; his artificial foot squeaking. He'd gotten used to it by now and was able to walk without it hindering him too much. After patting Toothless' scaly temple, he walked around and mounted, hooking his artificial foot with the matching strap on Toothless' saddle. He stretched an arm out to Astrid.

"Need a ride back?" he asked, trying to sound as suave as possible.

"Okay." Astrid responded brightly, taking his hand.

"Hold on." Hiccup told her as Toothless took to the air.

* * *

"Dude, where'd Hiccup go?" Snotlout complained. His arms drooping, he was starting to feel frustrated. Hiccup was supposed to be their leader. They needed to discuss their plan of action. But where was he? He'd last seen the boy fleeing the meeting like one would flee a ghost. Where had he gone off to?

"Probably went somewhere to sulk." Ruffnut, sighed lazily.

"And why would _that_ be, sister?" Tuffnut queried.

"Well, did you see his face?"

"No... Because I don't gawk at guy's faces. Developin' a crush, huh?"

"What!" Ruffnut screeched. "I am _not_!" she shouted, bashing her brother over the helmet with the back of her hand.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Tuffnut growled, shaking his fist.

"For being a jerk!" his sister shot back, angrily. "I do not have a crush on him."

"Pfft, just keep on denying it." said Tuffnut, waving her away.

"Besides," Snotlout said offhandedly, "Hiccup's into Astrid."

"They are so in love." Ruffnut agreed, as if trying to draw attention away from herself. "You jealous, Snotlout?" She raised a brow at him.

"Jealous of who?" a male voice from behind them asked. They turned, seeing Hiccup and Astrid seated on Toothless' back. Astrid had an arm around Hiccup's sternum. The dragon blinked, curious.

"N-nothing!" Snotlout stammered. "We were just discussing the many _wonderful_ delicacies of the world, right Ruffnut?"

The brown-haired girl nodded, her helmet falling forward to cover her eyes. "Some people are _so_ lucky. They get to eat the best grub."

"I actually agree," commented Astrid. "Remember last year when those merchants came in with their strawberry pastries?"

"How could I forget?" said Fishlegs, who had just emerged from somewhere behind them. He was clutching a chicken leg, munching on it happily. "Those things were delicious." He mumbled between bites.

"Where have you _been_?" Snotlout asked Hiccup, exasperated. He figured now would be the best time to change the subject.

Hiccup looked at Astrid and they shared a knowing glance. "We were out in the forest."

"Sulking?" Tuffnut suggested.

Hiccup laughed, albeit a bit awkwardly. "Uh... No?"

"Well, that sounded convincing." the male twin replied.

"Anyways," Hiccup slurred, "About the scouting mission..."

"Do you have a plan?" Snotlout asked immediately, excited that the subject had change to one of his liking.

"Yes we do." Hiccup answered, simply. Retrieving a roll of paper from his belt, he dismounted with Astrid following suit. Once on the ground, he crouched; motioning for them to move closer.

"Astrid and I came up with this while we were flyin-"

"Is that why you took so long?" Ruffnut interrupted.

"Yes." Hiccup answered. Looking up at the group, he asked them, "Are all of you sure you want to participate in this mission?" Each one of them nodded, confidence showing in their eyes. Hiccup smiled and unraveled the parchment. He took out his pencil. "Alright, this is what we'll do."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**_Another Berk chapter. Next chapter will focus once again on the people at Wyfort. Not much happens again here but I assure you, the pace will quicken in the chapters to come. _


End file.
